One Last Gift
by StayWithMeUntilIFall
Summary: "I'm not ready to go." Inspired by He Is We's "Kiss It Better." Even Batman feels the Christmas spirit.


"Why did you do it, Jason? You should have let me handle it."

Two men are encompassed by darkness, the only light coming from the moon shining through a prison window; the flimsy hall lights have long since flickered out for the night, needing to be replaced years prior. It doesn't bother either of them; both men are more accustomed to being in the shadows than they are the light. People often wonder if they were born there, if they live there, if they find refuge there. For the most part, the answer would be so-but tonight, there will be no refuge from the thing swallowing both of them whole-grief.

"Like you handled him before? You _know _why I did it. Just like I know why you _didn't_."

The small light in the cell had been illuminating the prisoner's face while he was sitting, but in a moment's heartbeat, he was standing, his hands and face pressed against the bars, and now all that could really be seen of him, even by eyes long since adjusted to the dark, is the white streak in his hair. Bruce doesn't flinch from the sudden movement or the clack the sound of hands made on metal, long since used to his adopted son's mannerisms. It's what the young man says next that he dreads.

"You are just as hypocritical and cowardly as you've always been, but I didn't know-I thought that if anyone, ANYONE, could make you realize what needed to be done, it would be him. I didn't realize how-"

Bruce pretends to stay cold, to not let Jason's words bother him. It isn't the first time that they've been in a situation like this, one of them contained while the other talks at him. That's all they ever do now, talk at each other. They don't know how to get through with what they're saying; they each think they're right and refuse compromise. But Jason is right about at least one thing; this time it is different. Bruce can't admit it, because that would confirm the suspicion that his son has always had; that one is (was) better than the other.

But the one in question was Dick, and he's never coming back. And now Jason was in prison for doing what he himself had wanted to do.

"-You didn't see him die. You weren't the one who watched him bleed out, who he told that he wasn't ready to go. But he accepted it, Bruce. You would have been proud. And THIS is how you repay him? I'm stuck in here, and-"

Jason had accepted it when it was his time to die. Bruce didn't know that; he wondered about it every day, but he would never actually know. Hearing about Dick brought him both a piece of mind and despair. He isn't sure which it is that makes him decide to do what he does next; maybe both sets of being, maybe neither; maybe he's tired of all of his sons being broken, and it's all weighing down on him, and he just wants to feel like he's doing something about it for once.

Or maybe he knows that it's what Dick would want, and it's one last thing to give his partner.

He stares hard at the captive for a moment longer, not really seeing what's there in the dark but trying to re-imagine him as a boy again. He then unlocks the prison door. It opens slowly, and there's a moment where the two men just stare at each other, the moonlight coming through so they can just make out each other's silhouette. He knows that Jason nods at him-doesn't say a word, not a goodbye or thanks, just a nod. The younger of the two then takes off down the hallway; Bruce knows that he'll break out his two accomplices, Harper and Starfire. He also knows that they were both there when Jason finally put down the Joker, though he's sure his son ordered them to stand back so he could do it himself.

He knows that it'll be up to him now to catch the three of them in a few weeks when they've started up trouble again, but until then he'll let Jason have his grieving period. He won't be able to have that for himself, especially if his adopted son goes into one of the rages that he's prone to. At least one day though; he'll give Jason that much before he starts to keep a close, suspicious eye on his doings again.

Later he sits on his rooftop, alone, watching over the ground below him, his mind far away from his sights. His gaze moves upwards, and he hopes that his son, if he's watching over them now, enjoyed his gift.

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
